


To Love Once More

by BiLaunchpad



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiLaunchpad/pseuds/BiLaunchpad
Summary: Drake Mallard is just getting things figured out.  He's balancing his low paying job while a single father, on top of keeping the city safe as Darkwing Duck.  But a seemingly meaningless meeting a flower shop with the local florist is about to throw a wrench into his entire plan.  Can Drake balance work, family, and his night life along with his new friend?Meanwhile, a new villain arrives onto the battlefield.  Who is this new enemy and just what does she plan to do with Duckburg?
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gandra Dee
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. Sowing The Seeds Of Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for checking out my first attempt at a fanfiction. I am new to this but don't be afraid to critique my work. More information about the fic itself can be found at the end.

Drake heard the alarm go off on the side of his bed. Reaching for the obnoxiously loud object, he pressed the snooze button for what felt like the umpteenth time. He wrapped his blanket tighter and tried to squeeze out a few more minutes of sleep. It was his day off from work and Drake was going to sleep in as long as he liked. He'd already missed two months' worth of sleep trying to catch up on Darkwing patrols when one of Ma Beagle's kids had broken his arm. Fenton had told Drake that he could handle everything while his arm healed, but they both knew that being vigilantes was hard on both of them, physically and mentally. Just last night Drake had been forced to fight a misogynistic frat boy who planned to kidnap all the girls who had rejected him and take them out on dates 'till they realized that he was a "nice guy". Drake had been adamant about the fact that this would cause the opposite effect and doing this, in turn, would only prove the girl's points. But apparently, people don't like it when you point out flaws in their half-assed plans. Drake rubbed his back, a sign he was gonna have some bruises for a while.

Drake's alarm went off again. This time when Drake tried to snooze it, he felt an external force tear off his blanket.

“Wake up sleepyhead,” Gosalyn chided as Drake groaned from his sudden lack of heat. “Sleeping all day isn’t going to pay this month's electricity bill.” Drake begrudgingly forced his sore legs to touch the floor, despite the agony it caused him. Stumbling past his daughter, Drake made his way into the hall. “Gos, you know it’s my day off. Could not try and wake me up at the crack of dawn?”

Gosalyn sighed as she followed her dad towards the kitchen and watched him start to make breakfast. “I would if you didn’t sleep in every other day. You’re really gonna throw off your sleep schedule.” Gosalyn watched as her dad tried to open a bottle of milk. Grabbing the bottle, Gosalyn twisted off the top and handed it back to her dad. “Thank you for caring Sweety.” He poured the milk into his coffee. “And since when did you care so much about my sleep schedule?” “Since when-” Gosalyn tossed Drake a muffin- “did you stop caring about yours?”

Drake stared blankly at his daughter. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before. It’d been almost six months since Gosalyn was officially adopted and Drake had spent most of the nights after stressing about if he was doing a good job or that something would go wrong and Gosalyn would have to go back to the orphanage. But that problem was long gone. Drake loved Gosalyn unconditionally and he made sure she knew that every day. No, the main source of his problems went back to at least a year and a half ago. The first time he took up the mantle of Darkwing Duck.

Drake had always admired the character when he was a little kid. It gave him hope that despite being a loser nerd with almost no friends, he’d always be able to keep getting back up. Darkwing helped him get through the darker times in his life, the ones Drake had chosen to forget about. But now Drake was the hardcore vigilante to Gizmoduck's law-abiding superhero persona. Darkwing Duck was a lone wolf, a man of action and surprise. He worked in the shadows and left no trace of his presence for anyone to follow. While he did enjoy the occasional team-up, both he and Fenton knew how much it already hurt Drake to see Darkwing Duck only be acknowledged on the news as Gizmoduck’s sidekick, despite both having stopped the same amount of crimes.

Lost in thought, Drake barely noticed Gosalyn putting on her jacket and running out the door. “And where do you think you’re going young lady?” Drake asked. Gosalyn turned towards her dad and smiled. “Webby, Lena, Violet, and I are going to the park to play some street hockey, remember? Don’t forget to pick me up tonight?" Drake smiled and ruffled the top of Gosalyn's head. "I won't Gos. Be safe okay?"

"I will," Gosalyn said as she gave her dad a hug. Drake watched as his daughter bolted out the door, leaving him with his cold cup of coffee. “Well, guess I have some time to kill.”

_________________________________________

By the time it was noon Drake had already finished every chore he could. He’d taken out the trash, cleaned the bathroom, vacuumed the floor, washed the dishes, and had even reorganized his collection of Darkwing Duck memorabilia for 37th time that month. Drake had sat down and simmered in the nostalgia of his old Darkwing Duck comics, CDs, and figurines. The nights of sitting in his room, playing with his figurines and pretending that he was Darkwing Duck swooping in to save the day. Drake wished that aspiring young boy could see him now.

Sitting down on the living room couch, Drake looked around his apartment. Despite it only being two bedrooms and two bathrooms, Drake still felt that it was too big for him. He thought that having Gosalyn around would fill the empty space, and she had, but every once in awhile Drake felt a little bit of that feeling come back.

It came whenever Drake was alone and would leave just as quickly. Drake remembered one morning when Gosalyn had stayed with a friend overnight and he'd awoken the next day in silence. Drake had gotten up and begun scrambling some eggs when he realized there was no one else in the house. He had no one to talk to, no one to joke with, no one to enjoy the cooking he loved to do. And then the feeling passed. Drake had often ignored those feelings, passing them off as his anxiety overreacting. But now the feeling wasn't going away as quickly. A sense of sadness welled up in Drake that he hadn't felt in a long time. Drake shook his head in defiance and the feeling passed. This was not the way to spend his day off.

Drake looked for anything to distract himself when his eyes passed over the vase of flowers he'd put on the kitchen table. They were dead and had been for a while, but Drake had put off trying to replace them because of his schedule. Looking down at his watch, Drake saw it was only 12:27. “I’ve got time,” he said as he grabbed his jacket. Drake walked out of his apartment and began to look for any local shops. Scrolling through his screen, Drake noticed one of the locations was a ten-minute drive from his apartment. “Well, how convenient is that,” he said, starting his drive.

_________________________________________

As he arrived at the flower shop, Drake began to ask if he was even in the right area. Looking down at his phone and up at the store's sign, he saw that both said McDuck Flower Emporium, though one couldn't be so sure. The building itself was a large stone house that sat right in the middle of two apartment complexes. It looked worn down and old, almost like it had been around for many decades. Multiple windows were either boarded up heavily or cracked. “Not exactly the best place for a flower shop huh,” Drake muttered, pushing the door open. Somewhere a bell chimed, followed by a muffled string of what Drake could only assume were curse words. A voice yelled from across the shop, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Or at least that's what Drake thought it said. With the voice being muffled and almost incomprehensible, Drake could only assume that's what it meant.

Scanning the shop's interior, Drake saw piles of soil strewn across the floor. There were pots of all shapes and sizes on the counters, many of them in colors Drake would consider too bright for any sane person's eyes. One of the light fixtures was on the verge of giving way to any sort of breeze. Most of the counters were being held up by chairs. It almost looked like they hadn’t even finished setting up yet.

Drake walked over to a pair of roses and began to admire the stunning purple color of the petals. He pressed his hand against the flower, allowing them to feel the petals. “So soft and yet-” Drake pricked himself on a thorn “-one wrong move could hurt you.” Drake felt the blood drip down his hand, staining the pure white color of his feathers. The rose reminded him of himself in his early days. The times he'd spent trying to work his way through uncomfortable relationships that he had no place being in, the days he had spent trying to please his parents in any way possible, and even the days where he felt like there was no point in trying anymore. He spent so much time trying to avoid getting hurt by others that he never found time to start caring for himself. Drake shivered at the thought of having to deal with that all over again.

“Hi sir, how may I help you?” The voice startled Drake from his thoughts. He turned around and found himself bill-to-bill with a duck in a sailor uniform. Drake recognized his voice as the scratchy accented one from earlier. He quickly wiped his hand on his pants to get the blood off his hand. “Oh yeah sorry. I was looking to buy some flowers, do you have any suggestions for ones that make an apartment feel a little less… empty?” The duck gave him a thoughtful nod before signaling Drake to follow him to the back. “Well I don’t work here,” the duck said, “but let me introduce you to the store’s main employee.” Drake followed the duck to the back, coming to a single door. Drake watched the duck slowly open and shut the door behind himself. After a few seconds, the duck opened the door back up and allowed Drake to come through.

_________________________________________

Nothing could’ve prepared Drake for what he saw when he stepped outside. Behind the stone brick building was a plot of land filled with plants of all shapes and sizes. To his left was a garden that held many types of vegetables. Cucumbers, carrots, beetroots, and many other spring veggies were being grown. To his right was an apple farm. Drake’s eyes drifted in the direction of a young woman who was picking some apples. Or at least trying to. She was hopping up and down to grab an apple a little too high. Drake watched as she stopped her futile attempts before running and kicking the tree. An apple fell and promptly knocked her out. “Is she-” Drake pointed towards the woman “-okay?” The sailor duck sighed. “Della! Are you okay?” No response came from Della. The duck pointed towards a greenhouse at the end of the plot, “Our florist is in the back. Just head to the greenhouse and he should be there. I’m going to go help Della.” The duck jogged towards the apple farm, leaving Drake alone.

As Drake stood in front of the greenhouse, he was starting to regret not going to another flower shop. He wanted to leave and just say he didn’t want any flowers in the first place. But feeling committed to his objective, Drake stepped into the greenhouse.

Drake had expected the greenhouse to be filled with flowers. He hadn’t expected it to be so stuffy. The room made Drake feel he’d just stepped into a Florida swamp. Sweat began to drip profusely off his forehead. Drake knew he had about five minutes before he melted into the ground. "Florist guy," Drake shouted, "are you in here?" No response.

"I'm looking for some flowers? Something to make my apartment feel less empty?" Drake cursed under his breath. It shouldn't be this hard to find a florist in a greenhouse, right? Drake sighed, he had to get out before his brain turned to mush. Heading back towards the exit, Drake was starting to think today wouldn't be the worst day off if he was able to catch a few Darkwing Duck episodes before Gosalyn came home. Sadly, things were about to get much worse for Drake.

Drake felt a hand on his shoulder and despite his mind being too tired to think, instinctively kicked into Darkwing Duck Mode. He tightened his grip on the unknown hand. It was much bigger than Drake's own hands and made Drake think that the attacker was much bigger than he was. Locking the hand in place Drake spun around and aimed his other hand towards his attacker's throat to knock him on the floor, but his chop was stopped by another large hand. “Whoa there buddy. You’re being a little too feisty,” the florist said. The florist removed his hands from Drake, “The greenhouse can do that to you sometimes.”

Drake looked up, his eyes glossy and blinking out the sweat. His eyes adjusted to see the man in front of him. He was a large pelican, at least two or three heads taller than Drake, with red hair that pushed out from beneath a blue baseball cap. The man was top-heavy and built like a truck but looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. His bright purple shirt was covered by suspenders. One of the straps hung loosely off his body, allowing Drake to see the Darkwing Duck design that was on it. Had Drake any competency at the moment he would've complimented the shirt. "Buh," Drake managed to croak. The large man smiled. "You okay there friend," he asked in a soft voice.

The man's smile put Drake at ease startlingly fast. It made Drake feel that everything was gonna be alright and taken care of. His voice soothed all of Drake's anxieties, a feat that he'd only accomplished while on pain medication. Drake wanted to run into the man's arms and allow himself to be swept away from wherever he was now. Drake could feel the emptiness inside himself be filled by the man's words. Yes, for a moment in time, Drake felt whole. And then everything came crashing down.

Every emotion that Drake could ever feel came down on him like a thunderstorm in Miami. Sadness, grief, anger, joy, trust, and surprise all filled his head. Drake couldn't concentrate. His mind began to race, his heart began to beat faster than it ever had before. And in this state of chaos, only one word prevailed over them all. Run.

Drake immediately pushed past the large man and ran out of the greenhouse as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He didn’t stop running until he was out of the store and into the closest alley. He sat down and allowed himself to breathe. Placing his hand over his heart, Drake began to feel his pulse slow. That feeling he felt back there, what had it been? Drake couldn't put a name on the feeling but it felt familiar. Drake shook his head, chalking it up to be some greenhouse induced fever dream state.

A notification went off on Drake’s phone. Drake checked his lock screen and saw Gosalyn had texted him ten times over the last twenty minutes asking to be picked up. Drake stood up from the dirty floor and wiped himself off. “Worst day off ever,” he said as he made his way to the car.

_________________________________________

Launchpad was still looking at the greenhouse’s door when Della and Donald walked in. “Hey Launchpad," Donald asked, "were you able to help that customer who came in? I know you’re not technically open yet but I thought it'd be a nice gesture.” Donald plopped Della into a chair and inspected her head. “He ran out of the greenhouse a few minutes ago," Launchpad replied. "I don’t blame him, he did just try to throat chop me.”

Donald gave Launchpad a look that could only be assumed to be a cross between quizzical and confused. “He did what now?”

“I don't think he meant any harm,” Launchpad protested. “He was probably just out of it from his first time being in a greenhouse.”

Donald finished inspecting Della’s head and patted her on the back. “You’ll be fine, just try not to get hit in the head again.” Donald turned his attention back to Launchpad, "Remind me to be with you next time you try talking to a customer?" Launchpad laughed, picking up some daisies and put them on a nearby shelf. "I got it Donald. Don't go worrying your tail-feathers off now. I wish I could apologize to him though, I doubt throat chopping is the best conversation starter."

Donald gave Launchpad a concerned look, "You have the weirdest priorities, y'know that?" Launchpad put the last daisy on the shelf. "Define weird," he said, flashing Donald a toothy grin.

_________________________________________

Launchpad finished putting the last of the flowers away. It’d taken him all day to finish the unpacking for the new store but he'd managed to get it done in time for tomorrow's opening. He looked around and admired the accomplishments that had been made today. He deserved a long night of binging Darkwing Duck to compensate for the work he'd put in.

Leaving the greenhouse, Launchpad started his walk towards the shop's entrance, when he noticed a large purple object lying on the ground. Launchpad bent over and picked up the object, identifying it as a Darkwing Duck wallet. Odd, no one except him watched Darkwing Duck nowadays. Opening the wallet, Launchpad saw the face of the customer he’d met earlier on an ID. Chuckling, Launchpad placed the wallet in his pocket and continued towards the exit. The universe sure worked in mysterious ways.


	2. Change Is In The Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long to update, it feels like forever since I posted Chapter 1. I'll be trying to update quickly in the future, but expect a new chapter at least once every week. Again, critique is wanted as this is my first fic.

It was Valentine’s day. Drake had bought some flowers and a silver necklace for his girlfriend. They’d been together since November, and Drake was starting to open up for the first time since his last relationship went to hell. It took a lot of courage to prepare himself for today: nights spent psyching himself up in bed, days trying to gather himself. He knew she was the one now and he was prepared to tell her how he truly felt. But when the time came, everything came crashing down upon him. She didn’t say it back.

Drake had spent the rest of the day bawling his eyes out under the bleachers. He wondered why he even tried anymore, all things considered. This was the fifth time he had been broken up within under two months. He was starting to wonder if he was just a bad person or if he was just picking the wrong people to care for. Drake wiped his tears and stood back up again. He wasn’t going to make this mistake again, that much he was certain about.

Unbeknownst to Drake, this was just a stepping stone in a vicious cycle that he wouldn’t escape for a long time. He would be forced to endeavor countless relationships, countless rejections that would make him cry over and over again. Women and men who would use him for personal gain, only to throw Drake to curb as soon as they were able to get what he wanted. Even the ones who had been nice at the start had always wanted something from him. And when he couldn’t provide he was always met with the same question, “Then why am I even dating you in the first place?” 

Drake put on a brave smile as he made his way from under the bleachers. “Someday,” he said, “I’ll find the one.”

_________________________________________________________

Drake stifled a yawn. Last night's patrol with Gizmoduck had been a mess. Fenton had told him he could take the night off and leave the rest to him but Drake had rejected his offer, telling him that taking care of the city was both of their responsibilities, right before dropping to the floor and falling asleep. Drake wiped his eyes in a futile attempt to remove the bags under them. He looked around the Flying Feather Cafe and noted the lack of customers. It was a Tuesday afternoon during Spring Break, meaning that most of them were out of town. Fine by him, Drake needed a calm day after yesterday’s fiasco.

Drake felt a pat on his back, turning around to see Fenton giving a concerned frown. “You sure you don’t want to take a power nap? I doubt anyone will notice you’re gone.” 

Drake smiled, “I've got it, Fenton, thanks for asking.”

Fenton smiled at Drake and rubbed his back. “No problem Drake.” 

Drake smiled. He was glad Fenton cared about his safety but falling asleep meant not waking up until late that evening. Drake grabbed a large plastic cup and poured coffee into it until it was around three-quarters full. Spooning in way more sugar than a normal person needed, he downed the whole cup in a matter of seconds. Fenton was mortified, “Are you sure that was the best idea?”

“Darkwing Duck never has any bad ideas,” Drake said, all too confidently. He knew that if he wasn't able to convince Fenton he could stay awake there was no point in arguing. The last time Drake hadn’t been able to convince Fenton was when they first moved in together. Drake had just gotten rejected from another acting position and had been binge-watching Darkwing Duck for twenty-four hours straight to hide his sorrows. When Fenton had found him sniffling under a blanket, he’d drugged Drake’s soda with powdered sleeping pills. Drake passed out five minutes later and didn’t wake up until early in the morning, almost a day and a half later. The incident had been properly dealt with after, Fenton apologizing for taking matters into his own hands, but Drake still suspected Fenton wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if he felt that his friend wasn’t well-rested.

Fenton gave a loud hmph in an attempt to change the conversation. “So… you ever gonna go back to that flower shop,” he asked. 

“You think I can go back there after my last visit,” Drake said. “I doubt I can even show my face at that shop ever again. You think that florist wants to see my face after I nearly punched him?” 

Fenton nodded his head no. “I’m sure the guy doesn’t hold it against you. He sounded pretty understanding from what you told me.”

“Yeah, but…” Drake paused. What reason did he not have to go back there? If he apologized now then there would be no bad blood between the two of them. Trying to wait it out seemed unlikely, the only other flower shops were at least an hour or two away. Trying to spend the rest of his time in Duckburg constantly avoiding the florist was even less plausible. At some point, he was going to have to talk to the florist. And the longer that Drake waited, the worse he made the conflict seem and the more embarrassed he’d be when he went to apologize. He was overthinking it, but why?

“Ohhh, I get it now.” Fenton lightly punched Drake in the shoulder, giving him a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow.

“You do?”

“You-" Fenton put his finger on Drake's chest, "-have a crush.”

“A….crush?” Despite not having said the word in over ten years, it still rolled off for Drake. He hadn't had one in a while, and for good reason. When Drake had sworn off romance he'd made sure to fill his life with so many activities that he wouldn't have time for crushing on people. The strategy was effective, Drake hadn't had feelings for anyone since that day. Now, saying the word out loud for the first time since then sent a shiver down Drake’s spine and fear into his eyes. He tried to swallow his emotions, but they bubbled over and put blush on his face. Fenton doubled over laughing, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh good one Drake. That’s a funny joke.”

Fenton looked over at Drake and the realization washed over him. “Oh my god, you’re not joking are you?”

“I know exactly what a crush is,” Drake said defensively. “But you know what my love life is like.”

“WAS like,” Fenton said, emphasizing on the was. “You haven’t dated anyone in over ten years, you need to get back out there!”

The sentence took a second to register in Drake’s head. Every past relationship came and went in a second through his mind. The day he met them, the times they’d spent together, the love that Drake had felt for them, and the heartbreak that went along with it. Whenever someone broke up with Drake, they would always tell him the same thing: “You’re a hopeless romantic.” Drake had denied those claims many times. He wasn't hopeless romantic, he was just optimistic: who wouldn't be? Oh, how he’d been a fool. He had poured all of his heart into those relationships, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Drake hadn’t been a hopeless romantic: he had been hopeless, through and through.

Drake hadn’t realized that he’d been crying until his vision was blurred and the sound of tears began to hit the ground. Fenton put his arms around Drake, embracing him in a hug. He could feel his friend slump into his arms. Fenton held onto him tightly, until he could feel Drake begin to hold himself up. “You gonna be alright?”

Drake straightened himself out and loudly cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry Drake, I didn’t mean to make you cry like that.”

“You're-” Drake wiped some tears from his eyes, “-you’re good Fenton.” Drake’s heartbeat began to slow and the blush faded from his face. “I’m spending too much time in the past. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be seeing the florist anytime soon.”

_________________________________________________________

Drake locked the door to the Flying Feather and felt his body sag from the workday. He hadn’t expected a massive lunch rush that late into the morning, but they managed to make it through the day. It’d woken him up though and he was gonna need his energy tonight. Fenton was gonna be out of town on a date with Gandra. It was their fifth anniversary as a couple and Fenton planned to propose. Drake was glad Fenton had found someone to settle down with; Gandra was just as big a science nerd as Fenton. Whenever the two hung out together Drake always managed to find himself in the middle of a conversation about something science-related. At least, he thought they were talking about. Most of the time he didn’t know what the two of them were talking about. Regardless, he was still happy for the two of them.

“Marriage, huh,” Drake chuckled at the thought. The thought of commitment to someone was laughable, especially for the rest of their lives. “No one is ever truly that committed to someone,” Drake said. “They always leave you sooner or later.”

Though Drake knew the statement to be true, it still hurt to say. At one point in his life, Drake would’ve believed that he could find someone to settle down with, but things were different now. Drake felt no need to change. He had a twelve-year-old daughter, worked a 9-5 job, and worked as a superhero. As far as Drake knew, he was good where he was. But that was before life decided to throw a wrench into his plans.

“Drake Mallard, I presume,” said a voice, it’s calm tone soothing all of Drake’s worries.  
Oh, he knew that voice all too well. Drake looked up and found himself looking into the florist’s eyes. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want?”

The pelican held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Drake. I'm Launchpad, Launchpad McQuack,” he said cheerfully.

“Nice to meet you, Launchpad,” Drake said. Was that his real name? Drake shoved the thought aside, he could care less. He wasn't in the mood, nor right mind, to reciprocate anything joyful.

“I believe-” Launchpad reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, “-I have something of yours?”

Drake took a good look at the wallet and gasped. “That’s my wallet! Where’d you get that?”

“You dropped it after our little skirmish yesterday,” Launchpad as he handed it to Drake. “Didn’t think there were any more fans.”

“Any more fans," Drake asked. He didn't realize any other people admitted to watching the show as a kid.

“Of course dude. I haven’t seen another Darkwing Duck fan in forever.” Launchpad opened his jacket to show off a Darkwing Duck shirt with the words “Let’s Get Dangerous!” in bold print on it. “I’m a huge fan!”

Drake hid his excitement behind his calm demeanor. Another Darkwing Duck fan? Drake could feel all his bottled up Darkwing trivia trying to burst out of himself. He wanted to sit down and spend the next hour talking about fan theories and comics and characters and-.

Drake cut himself off. What was he doing, he barely even knew this guy. Why was he trying to go full nerd on him? Drake quelled his nerd urges. Drake didn't need to let this conversation go to shit before it even got started.

Launchpad stared at the smaller duck, who's mind seemed lost in thought. “Did I say something wrong?”

Remembering that Launchpad was still in front of him, Drake snapped himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not your fault. I just expected this conversation to be a lot worse.”

“And why’s that?" Launchpad asked.

“Uhhh…” Drake did not know how to respond. Despite how comfortable it felt to talk to Launchpad, he couldn’t just spill his complicated past to him. Drake didn't care what Launchpad thought of him, but he didn’t want to drive away what seemed to be a genuinely nice person with his weirdness either. “No reason,” Drake managed to said. 

Even though it was obvious to Drake that he was lying, Launchpad seemed to buy it. “Well, since that’s said and done, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Drake said.

“Can I get your number,” Launchpad asked nonchalantly.

“My what?”

Launchpad pulled out his phone, the contacts app already open to add a new number. “You just seem like a cool guy, so I was gonna see if you wanted to grab some drinks later?”

Drake looked down at the phone and then back to Launchpad. He didn’t want to upset the guy. But he knew that this wasn’t going to be some short term thing if he gave him the number. No, giving Launchpad his number was gonna have some sort of change down the line. Was he ready for that?

Before Drake realized what happened, he had already swiped Launchpad's phone from his hands and entered his contact info before handing back to him. "Here, take it before I regret giving it to you."

Launchpad smiled, embracing Drake in a hug before letting go and putting the phone in his jacket pocket. "Thanks," Launchpad said before walking in the opposite direction. "I promise to text you later!"

Drake sighed and began his walk back to his car. “Maybe this won’t be so bad,” he thought. He could deal with change. Changing was a good thing. Besides, what was the harm in making a new friend?

_________________________________________________________

Beneath Duckburg’s starry sky lie mile-long sewage pipes that weave throughout the underground. They are uninhabited by any living creatures, the smell of dirty wastewater so strong that wearing a hazmat suit is needed to survive if your in there for more than an hour. But the cloaked figure did not mind the smell. They’d often found the smell revolting in their early days, but it had soon grown on them as a passable, possibly even likable stench.

The figure made their way through the dank underground, following a seemingly incoherent path to the naked eye. A left, right, right, left: the figure knew the path like the back of their hand. Finally, they arrived in front of an iron bar wall that blocked off an area of the sewers. The words “DO NOT ENTER” were bright and bold on top of a large sign; the sign made the figure chuckle. It wasn’t like they’d already disobeyed that order many times before. The figure walked up to the bars and stuck their hand through, then their leg. Sucking in their gut, they pulled their other leg through, and lastly their arm. For a skinny person like them, the bars were less a deterrent and more of an obligatory obstacle.

The figure continued their trek down the maze of sewer lines before stopping in front of a wall covered in vines and moss. A normal person wouldn’t bat an eye at the plants but they knew differently. Pushing the moss aside revealed a retina scanner that was rusted from age. The figure entered a four-digit pin into the scanner before pulling back the hood on their cloak. 

Underneath the cloak was a lengthy female duck, no more than 5’7” and 190lbs. Her skin was discolored from years of exposing herself to chemicals and plants. Splotches of green, eggshell white and gray dotted the pure white feathers she had been born with. She brought herself to eye level with the scanner, which scanned her retina before giving off a tiny beep and opening a hidden door from behind the moss. She stepped behind the door and closed it. “Home sweet home,” she said as the rest of her cloak dropped off her body, revealing a white lab coat.

Inside the hidden room was a lab filled with chemicals and plants of all sorts. Test tubes, beakers, and other equipment she had stolen from different labs laid strewn throughout the room in a cluttered mess. But it was her mess, a mess where she knew where everything was. 

She made her way to the back of the lab into an area she had dubbed, “The Garden”. Well, it was less a garden and more a few flowers that she stole from shops. She had tried to make a real garden as a way to avoid stealing so often, but the flowers didn’t take so kindly to the sewer system's lack of light and unsanitary water. As she opened up the curtain that was meant to shield the flowers from chemicals, the woman was surprised to find that every last one had died. Even the Autumn Crocus. “Shit.”

She closed the curtain and sat down in a chair to think about her current situation. She needed that flower for its poison, without it the whole plan was a bust. On any other day, she would’ve just waited until she could go grab some from a store the next day. However, this was not any other day, she was working on a tight schedule. It was only a matter of time before someone figured out where she was and she’d be forced to start over for the fourth time. No, she needed the Autumn Crocus now.

Pulling out her phone, she entered flower shops into the GPS. She was worried the signal would be too weak and she’d be forced to give up until a single shop popped up. Weird, this one was only two miles away from her. "Must be new. Perfect." 

The woman grabbed her suit and rushed out the door, starting her route to the shop. “McDucks Flower Emporium won’t know what hit them,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!


	3. Blooming Villainy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nice to see that this first fanfic is doing so well. I didn't expect to get so many hits only two chapters in. I'll definitely be trying my hand in some one shots when I get the chance.

Darkwing Duck stood on top of a rooftop, his eyes scanning the area for any villainous figures walking around in the night. Tonight had been quiet for criminal activity, the least amount he’d seen since he first started as Darkwing. On any other day, Darkwing would assume Gizmoduck had taken care of most of the criminals, but that wasn’t the case tonight. Fenton had told him he was out of commission for the rest of the night because of his date with Gandra. Something seemed off tonight, which meant even more reason for Darkwing to stay vigilant.

Taking off his Darkwing persona, Drake gave a long yawn and smacked his lips. He was tired and wanted to turn in for the night, but Fenton was counting on him to keep the city under wraps while he was out. Drake hadn’t realized how hard being a superhero was without a partner, especially when he was just a guy in a suit without any powers. He never fully appreciated having Fenton to cover the other half of the city. Drake had to cover a lot of ground tonight, and being tired wasn’t going to help. Trying to distract himself to keep awake, Drake took his grappling gun out of its holster. Gandra had designed it for him when he’d first started as Darkwing. Drake had insisted that his black belt in martial arts would be enough to handle any criminal, but Gandra had ignored him and handed the gun to him anyways. “You’ll need a faster form of transportation than your feet,” Gandra had said, “Plus, you never know when you’ll want to rope up some bad guys.”

Drake had reluctantly taken the gun and planned to never use it, but he realized how helpful it had been after the first few fights. The grappling hook gave Drake a faster way of maneuvering through the city. It also served as a nonlethal way of taking out criminals, though Drake didn’t like leaving so many people with large bruises on their bodies.

Drake’s phone rang the notification sound. “Odd,” Drake said as he pulled out his phone, “I thought Gosalyn would be asleep by now.” Drake looked at the notification, the message “Hey” was sent from an unknown number. Drake sighed. This was probably another one of Gandra’s prank texts. She liked to text him from a burner phone to screw with him. The last time it had happened Drake had given her his credit card number, to which Gandra responded by doing the only logical thing an adult in her late twenties would do: fill his apartment with balloons. Drake began texting back.

Drake: Gandra I need you to stop pranking me.

Drake was about to put the phone back into his pocket when another message popped up.

????: Who’s Gandra? This is Launchpad.  
Drake: Oh, ignore that then.  
Launchpad: It’s good. Just a very odd way to start a conversation.  
There went the chance of Drake ever making a good impression.

Launchpad: So about those drinks, you free this week?

Oh right, drinks. Drake had completely forgotten about the comment Launchpad had made earlier. He’d considered it to be harmless banter, but it looked like the man wasn’t going back on his word.

Drake: Can’t, I have a business to attend to every night this week.

That would get him off his back for the night. Drake put his phone down and continued to survey the city. Why was it so calm-.

The phone went off again. “This guy does not know when to give up,” Drake said.

Launchpad: Same, I work a partial night shift for the flower shop. Right now I’m setting up everything from our recent shipment. What are you doing?  
Drake: Helping my daughter out with homework.

The lie came effortlessly to Drake. It was his most common excuse whenever he needed to get out of something. Almost everyone decided not to question it, being a single father in this time wasn’t very easy. With those words, Drake expected the conversation to end after that. It did not, to his dissatisfaction.

Launchpad: You have a kid? Is she a handful? I’ve heard it can be a lot to handle from my friends.

Where did this guy find the confidence to speak so boldly?

Drake: She’s fine. She’s old enough to take care of herself and mature enough that I don’t have to worry about her getting in trouble often.

Drake sent the message, only to immediately regret it. He hated talking about his personal life to anyone besides Fenton and Gandra. Drake didn’t want people to be able to hold anything over him. It was also his form of a precaution to make sure no villain found where he lived or whatnot. But somehow he just spilled three facts about himself to a man he’d just met. What was going on with him?

The phone rang again.

Launchpad: You and your wife must have it pretty easy then.  
Drake: She’s adopted, and I'm single.

There went two more pieces of personal information.

Drake closed the phone once again and sighed. Launchpad seemed like a nice dude, but he took a lot of energy out of Drake. And he needed his energy.  
The phone didn’t ring immediately, surprisingly enough, and Drake assumed he’d weirded out Launchpad with his last text so much that the conversation was over. Fine by him. Drake went back to overlooking the city, but once again, the phone rang. This time in three quick buzzes rather than one.

Launchpad: Shit  
Launchpad: I’ll have to talk to you later  
Launchpad: I think someone broke into the shop  
Drake: What? Call the police.

Drake waited a few minutes but his text garnered no response from Launchpad. Drake checked the time on his phone: 10:47 pm. The police would take too long to dispatch a patrol. Drake couldn’t call Fenton either, he and Gandra were offline. If he didn’t do something now, Launchpad could easily get hurt, or worse, killed. If he did go, however, there was the risk Launchpad would put two and two together. “Looks like I’ll have to chance it,” Drake said. Setting the emporium’s address into his GPS, Drake put the mask over his face and grabbed his grappling hook. “Let’s get dangerous.”

_________________________________________

Launchpad was scared, but he knew how to stand his ground. The occasional sparring lesson had taught him a thing or two about how to competently defend himself. Grabbing his broom from the wall, Launchpad made his way through the darkness of the store. The only light came from the moon and with Launchpad’s eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, he was at a clear disadvantage. But he was Launchpad McQuack, part-time florist and full-time crash extraordinaire! If there was anything he knew how to do, it was a crash a break-in.

As he made his way to the front of the store, Launchpad began to make out the scene of the crime. Pieces of broken glass were scattered across the floor from a nearby broken window. Launchpad was careful to not step on any of the pieces. He also noticed the pieces of a flower pot, soil, and flowers strewn on the floor as well. “Odd,” Launchpad thought, “Why would they destroy all of the pottery?”

The sound of angry scuffling came from nearby. Launchpad hid behind a register counter, slowing his breath down. Peeking around the side of the counter, Launchpad could begin to make out a shadowy figure who was inspecting the plants and knocking them over. He saw that it was a small woman who was covered in different flowers. The roots of the flowers wrapped around her body and Launchpad could see pollen falling from her. “So much for dealing with someone normal,” he thought, gripping the broom tightly in his hands. If he moved swiftly he could probably take her out in one hit. Launchpad did have the advantage of being taller and bigger than her. Launchpad took a deep breath and slowly made his way from behind the counter. He took deliberate steps, keeping his footsteps light and breathing slow. Everything came down to this sneak attack. 

Launchpad continued slowly, now only ten feet from his target. Unbeknownst to him, pieces of glass had been scattered in front of him. As Launchpad took his steps forward, he stepped on one. The sound of the glass breaking was nearly silent, but it was just enough to catch the woman's attention. As she turned her head around Launchpad made a mad dash for his target, swinging his broom wildly. The woman turned her attention towards some nearby flowers on the ground and without hesitation threw a handful of pollen onto them. The flowers grew at an abnormal speed and ensnared Launchpad in their growth.

Launchpad tried to his move body but to no avail: he was trapped. Launchpad turned to look at the woman, who seemed very disappointed to find that she wasn't alone in the store. “Hey,” Launchpad yelled, “who are you?”

The woman looked at Launchpad, reaching into a bag on her body and pulling out a small amount of pollen. She threw it into Launchpad’s face, causing him to sneeze. “Sleep tight,” she said.

Launchpad could feel himself becoming sleepier, his eyelids starting to close. “Who...are…….you,” Launchpad said between his yawns.

As Launchpad drowsiness took over, he saw the woman look back at him once more. “I’m just your local pollinator,” she said to Launchpad as he fell asleep.

_________________________________________

Darkwing stood in front of McDuck’s Flower Emporium, unaware of what waited inside for him. He’d tried to get down here as fast as he could but he was still worried that it was too late. Launchpad hadn’t answered his last text, which meant he was either busy or he’d been hurt. Darkwing shook off the thought. Launchpad was going to be fine, he hoped. Making his way to the front door, Darkwing allowed himself to fully become one with his persona. He was Darkwing Duck, the most dangerous vigilante the city of Duckburg had seen. He dealt with many robberies before, just how different could this one be?

Darkwing kicked down the door to the emporium, grappling hook in hand. As he walked in, he found that Launchpad was trapped in what seemed to be a giant tree and a smaller woman was searching through a cluttered mess of flowers. Hearing the door break down caught the woman’s attention and Drake saw her stop what she was doing and turn to face him. “Oh great, another man to add to the list,” she said. “And who exactly are you?”

Darkwing cleared his throat. “I am the terror that flaps in the night, I am the weed that grows in concrete’s cracks. I am Darkwing Duck!” As Darkwing finished his catchphrase, he looked to see if the woman had begun to tremble under his might. She was, in fact, not trembling and had already gone back to looking through the flowers. “Hey,” Darkwing yelled, “you can’t just walk away in the middle of my intro. You, uh...”

The woman looked back at Darkwing, “Pollinator. My name is Pollinator.” Pollinator pointed at an unconscious Launchpad, “And unless you wish to end up like him, I suggest you take your ‘superheroing’ somewhere else.” Pollinator emphasized the superheroing with air quotes. Now that pissed Darkwing off. “Alright asshole, enough small talk,” Darkwing said angrily, “you’re going down.” Pollinator readied herself, fists in the air. “Let’s see what you can do, Darkwing.”

Darkwing holstered his gun and charged Pollinator, his blood boiling. He threw a punch at her, only for her to dodge behind him and throw out one of her own. Darkwing took the brunt of the hit in his arm before returning with an uppercut to her face. The punch landed and Pollinator was thrown back from the force. She backflipped, landing on her feet and running back at Darkwing, delivering a flurry of punches. “She’s fast,” Darkwing thought as he tried to block Pollinator’s punches with his arms. Though she wasn’t the strongest, Darkwing could feel that each of her punches was deliberate and precise, aiming at the same areas to wear him down faster. He had to end this fast before she wore him out.

Darkwing managed to land another punch on Pollinator, this time catching her off guard. As she flew back from the force, Darkwing fired his grappling hook at her, wrapping Pollinator up in the grappling hook rope. “Looks like someone is a little tied up,” Darkwing said, unable to hide his smugness. “So, you gonna tell why you’re here, or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?”

Pollinator had a grimace on her face. “Listen here Dorkwing,” she began in a low tone. “I am not someone to be messed with. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop playing superhero and let me do what needs to be done.”

“You’re not really in a position to negotiate y’know,” Darkwing said. “Well,” Pollinator said, “neither are you.”

Darkwing watched as Pollinator dropped some pollen on the floor and roots shot up from the ground, propelling her through the roof. “You don’t know you’re messing with Darkwing Duck,” Pollinator said as she rose to the top of the building, “My business with you isn’t over just yet.”

Drake cursed under his breath. He wanted to go after her, but Launchpad’s safety won his priority. Pulling him out of the tree, Drake checked Launchpad’s pulse. It was slow, but he was still alive. Picking up Launchpad, Drake began to drag him out of the shop. Looked like there was still one last place to hit up tonight.

_________________________________________

Drake sat worriedly in Duckburg hospital's emergency room’s waiting room. He’d spent the last two hours twiddling his thumbs while Launchpad was being checked by nurses. Drake just hoped they believed his story about Launchpad accidentally taking too many sleeping pills.

“Mr. Mallard?” Drake saw a nurse holding a clipboard push an unconscious Launchpad in a wheelchair from behind the double doors. “Is there a Mr. Mallard here?”

“That would be me,” Drake said as he walked over to the nurse. “Did you find out what’s wrong with him?”

“Yes. Seems that your assumption was correct, Mr. McQuack accidentally overdosed on some sort of sedative, most likely an accidental mistake. All it will take is a goodnight’s rest and he should be up and running in the morning.” Drake sighed of relief, the last thing he wanted was to be responsible for Launchpad getting severely hurt. He just wished that he’d gotten to him sooner, then maybe he could have prevented this.

“Now, about your payment.” The nurse turned the clipboard over to Drake. Every good feeling he’d previously had that night disappeared as he saw the total cost of the examination and a room for Launchpad. Drake knew that he could cover the small examination fee, but the price for a room was much more than Drake could afford to pay out of pocket Drake wasn’t sure that Launchpad’s insurance would cover the costs, or if he even had insurance. Drake handed the clipboard back to the nurse, “May I suggest another plan?” 

_________________________________________

Drake quietly unlocked the door to his apartment, trying the best he could to not let a sleeping Launchpad fall off his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what time it was past the fact that he knew it was sometime after midnight, but at this point, none of it mattered. All Drake wanted was at least an hour of sleep before he had to drive Gosayln to school in the morning. The only problem was how he was going to deal with Launchpad. 

Drake opened up the door to his bedroom and did his best to get Launchpad on to it safely. He decided that the least he could do was give Launchpad the bed for the night, considering that he was a guest. He’d slept on the couch before, so he didn’t mind. 

As Drake stepped away from the bed, he felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He looked behind and saw that Launchpad had latched onto his shirt. Drake tried to remove his hand, but Launchpad had an iron grip for someone who was heavily sedated. The hand pulled Drake into the bed, and before he knew it Launchpad had wrapped his arms around him. Drake blushed at the feeling of being so close to the other man. His stress dissolved as Launchpad’s arms held him tightly in their grasp. Drake tried to resist the temptation to fall asleep, but he could already feel that it was useless to resist. Drake sighed, allowing his body to melt into Launchpad’s arms. For the first time in awhile, Drake knew he was going to get a good night’s rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, critique is wanted. I'd really like to hear what people think I can improve on so I can better myself in later fics. Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Clarification:  
> This fanfiction takes place in an alternate universe where Drake failed to become an actor and Fenton chose to strike out on his own. Together the two decided to take on the mantle of being Duckburg's protectors. Both Fenton and Drake work full time at a cafe.  
> Along with those changes come ones to the McDuck family. Scrooge now owns a multi-million dollar flower shop corporation (but is nowhere close to being the richest duck in the world) and Launchpad is one of his employees.  
> No one's personality is gonna be changed, at least not significantly. I also plan to include an over arcing storyline, so expect some action with to be mixed in.  
> Please leave any additional questions I couldn't clarify at the bottom and I'll be happy to answer them.  
> Thanks again for reading, and Happy Quarantine!


End file.
